Barchuk paused in the middle of rising and his face became a mask as he realized the talk was not over.

"My youngest brother has expressed an interest in learning," Genghis said. "Stand, Temuge, where he can see you." Barchuk looked round at the slender young man who rose and bowed to him. He acknowledged the gesture with a stiff dip of his head before turning back to Genghis.

"My shaman, Kokchu, will lead him in this, when the time comes, but I would like them to read and learn whatever they think is worthwhile. I include the scrolls you already own as well as any we might win from our enemies."

"The Uighurs are yours to command, lord," Barchuk said. It was not too much to ask and he did not understand why Genghis seemed ill at ease bringing up the subject. Temuge beamed at his back and Kokchu bowed his head as if he had received a great honor.

"It is settled, then," Genghis said. His eyes were shadowed, flickering in the lamps that had been lit against the evening gloom. "If the Xi Xia are as rich as you say, they will be the first to see us on the move. Will the Chin support them?"

Barchuk shrugged. "I cannot say for certain. Their lands border one another, but the Xi Xia have always been separate in their kingdom. The Chin may raise an army against you to counter any later threat. Or they may let them die to the last man without lifting a hand. No one can say how their minds work."

Genghis chuckled. "If you had told me ten years ago that the Kerait were facing a great host, I would have laughed and counted myself lucky not to be in the path of the battle. Now I call them brothers. It does not matter if the Chin come against us. If they do, I will break them all the faster. In truth, I would rather face them on a plain than have to climb the walls of their cities."

"Even cities can fall, lord," Barchuk said softly, his own excitement mounting.

"And they will," Genghis replied. "In time, they will. You have shown me the underbelly of the Chin in these Xi Xia. I will gut them there and then pull their heart out."

"I am honored to serve, lord," Barchuk replied. He stood and bowed low, holding the pose until Genghis made a gesture for him to rise.

"The tribes have assembled," Genghis said, standing and stretching his back. "If we are to cross the desert, we will need to collect water and feed for the horses. Once I have the oath, there is nothing more holding us to this place." He paused for a moment.

"We came here as tribes, Barchuk. We leave as a nation. If you are recording events in those scrolls as you describe, be sure to write that."

Barchuk's eyes shone, fascinated by the man who commanded the great host. "I will see it done, lord. I will teach the script to your shaman and your brother that they might read them to you."

Genghis blinked in surprise, intrigued at the image of his brother repeating words trapped on stiff calfskin.

"It would be interesting to see such a thing," he said. He took Barchuk by the shoulder, giving him honor by letting him leave the great ger in his company. The generals fell in behind. Outside, they could hear the hushed murmur of the gathered tribes as they waited for the one who would lead them.

Even in the summer darkness, the camp glowed yellow under the stars, lit by ten thousand fluttering flames. The center had been cleared in a vast ring around the ger of Genghis, and the warriors of a hundred factions had left their families to stand together in the flickering light. From one man to the next, their armor could be a piece of stiff leather or the helmets and neat sets of iron scales copied from the Chin. Some carried the stamp of their tribes, while most were blank, showing that they were new and that there was only one tribe under the sky. Many of them held swords, fresh from the forges that had been working night and day since coming to the plain. Huge holes had been dug by sweating men under the sun while others carted ore back to the flames and watched in excitement as the swordsmiths turned out weapons they could hold. More than one man had burned his fingers reaching for them before they had cooled properly, but they had never dreamed of owning a long blade and they did not mind.

The wind always blew across the plain, but that evening the breeze was gentle as they waited for Genghis.

When the khan came out, Barchuk of the Uighurs was guided down the steps of the cart and stood in the first rank around the wheels of wood and iron. Genghis stood for a moment, looking over the heads of the crowd and marveling at the size of it. His brothers, Arslan and Jelme, and last the shaman, Kokchu, stepped down from the height, each one pausing to take in the ranks stretching away in pools of light.

Then he was alone and he closed his eyes for a moment. He gave thanks to the sky father for bringing him to that place, with such an army to follow him. He said a few brief words to the spirit of his father in case that man could see him. Yesugei would be proud of his son, he knew. He had broken new ground for his people, and only the spirits could tell where the path would end. As he opened his eyes he saw Borte had brought his four sons to stand in the front rank, three of them too young to be left on their own. Genghis nodded sharply to them, his gaze lingering on the eldest, Jochi, and Chagatai, whom he had named after the shaman of the Wolves. At almost nine, Jochi was in awe of his father and he lowered his eyes, while Chagatai merely stared, his nervousness obvious.

"We came here from a hundred different tribes," Genghis roared. He wanted his voice to carry, but even a throat trained on the field of battle could only reach so far. Those who could not hear would have to follow the lead of those who could.

"I have brought Wolves to this plain, Olkhun'ut and Kerait. I have brought Merkit and Jajirat, Uirat and Naimans. Woyela have come here, Tuvan, Uighurs and Uriankhai." As he named each group, there was a stir from where they sat. He noticed how they remained together even for that night. There would be no easy assimilation for those who counted tribal honor above all else. It did not matter, he told himself. He would raise their gaze higher. His memory was faultless as he named each tribe that had ridden to join him in the shadow of the black mountain. He left no one out, knowing that the omission would be noted and remembered.

"More, I have called those who had no tribe," he went on, "but still had honor and heeded the call of blood to blood. They rode to us in trust. And I say to you all, there are no tribes under the sky father. There is only one Mongol nation and it begins this night, in this place."

Some of those who listened cheered, while others remained stony-faced. Genghis kept the warrior's mask on his own features. He needed them to understand there was no loss of honor in what he asked.

"We are brothers in blood, separated too long ago for anyone here to know. I claim a greater family of all tribes, a blood tie to you all. I call you as brothers to my standard and we will ride as one family, one nation." He paused, judging the response. They had heard the idea before, whispered in the gathering from tribe to tribe. Still, it shook them to hear it from him. The bulk of the men did not cheer, and he had to crush a sudden spike of irritation. The spirits knew he loved them, but his own people were maddening at times.

"We will pile spoils enough to equal the mountain at your backs. You will have ponies and wives and gold, oils and sweetmeats. You will take lands for your own and you will be feared wherever they hear your names. Every man here will be a khan to those who bow to him."

They cheered that, at least, and Genghis risked a small smile, pleased he had found the right tone. Let the lesser khans worry about the ambition of those around them. He meant every word of it.